Rewriting the Truth
by anarchxst
Summary: When you think of the worst writing job you could ever apply for, I bet you didn't consider pro wrestling. Neither did Audrey. Sure, it can't hurt to be surrounded by attractive guys all day - even when they hate you. Then again, when you're ambitious enough to sacrifice their career for yours, you're bound to make a few enemies. Dean/OC
1. prologue

**A/N: This was originally a story written two other times, but I never had the story. It went nowhere. Lucky for you guys, that's drastically changed.**

 _ **That being said, I am well aware of a story known as 'No Holds Barred' and**_

 _ **1\. No, I have not read it. I assume it's pretty awesome by the number of reviews. I'm not going to read it because I don't want it to seep into my own writing and plot.**_

 _ **2\. No, it's not the same plot. Unless ****RochelleCO4 and I happen to share one brain, which we don't.**_

 **Now that we've gotten that out of the way...**

 **WARNING : There's no love triangle and the core of the story isn't the romance itself. This is about a girl fucks up a lot for selfish reasons because she felt powerless in her life and wants more. This is about her career and what she's willing to do for it. No savior complexes, no damseling. No making the Bellas/Renee/any other females out as bitches. No perfectly sassy, 100% supportive Diva sidekicks. This isn't high school. These are inherently flawed characters that will be portrayed with as much depth as I can muster. Shaming is something I don't tolerate. The same goes for abuse.**

 **Enjoy the revamped, edited version! 8D**

* * *

 **Rewriting the Truth**

by anarchxst

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

 **Tap, tap, tap.**

The clack of my keyboard as my fingers dancing across the keys was all I ever wanted in this world. That's what it was. Dancing. It was the type of dancing I could always follow. It had its own beat, its own rhythm. It followed any melody passed from my headphones to my ears. It was beautiful.

There are many different types of dances; that one just happened to be my favorite.

His was more…violent. Percussion formed from the crack of a chair at another man's back and the stomps of boots on canvas. The melody came in the wild roar of cheers, thousands at a time. It was a dance that only few could truly appreciate. A barbaric dance, but breathtaking if done right (if not a bit overly dramatic).

Even as my hands raced across my laptop keyboard, dancing in deft accuracy, I was still merely a writer.

He was dirty and foul mouthed, violent and full of rage. Gruff. Mean. Strange. Still, he made art. Hard, painful, gritty art. He didn't just create it, he became it. Maybe that line of thinking is where things went terribly wrong.

Ours was a dance full of missteps and awkward shuffling. My dance was slow and only for me – a solo never meant to become anything else, while his was impulsive and too close for my liking, always looking for a partner. But, when it worked…

Oh god, did it ever work.

Without each other, we would've had nothing.

Now, I hear that tap, tap, tap. My music.

I look to the television on my right as it flashes bright colors. An engine revs, vibrating my speakers. The crowd cheers, almost drowning out the music that starts. His music.

I can feel my stomach churn as I frown at the screen.

And the dance begins again.


	2. one: trouble

**A/N: My characters seem to have a tendency of being not so nice. Just FYI.**

* * *

 **Chapter One: Trouble**

* * *

In my experience, there are three types of people in the world:

 _1\. The wrestling fans._

 _2\. The people who've seen the movie "The Wrestler"._

 _3\. People who didn't know that Dwayne Johnson used to beat guys up while in his underwear and use terms like "jabroni" or "candy ass"._

Me? I'm numero uno. Wrestling was essentially forced onto me when my mother dressed me up like Hulk Hogan and took me to a house show when I was eighteen months old. I knew wrestlers names better than my family's names as a kid.

In a way that's what pro wrestling is to its fans - a family member. A deadbeat uncle that was super nice when you were a kid but now just wants your money and to take up space in your house like you _owe_ them something. And you do it anyway, cause, y'know...they're _family_.

Maybe that's why I thought working there would be a good idea.

The meeting at the beginning of the week was usually to discuss short term and long term story lines with the superstars, long term meaning a vague plot line for the next few weeks or months and short term meaning a more detailed plot for the week.

For the last month and a half I had been working with the secondary show, Thursday Night Smackdown, leading up to another poorly named pay per view, which was actually in another month. It was the first time I had gotten a say in the plot leading up to a title match and depending on how it went over with the ratings and fans, they would give me the chance to work with a select number of writers and superstars on the road to Wrestlemania.

What's Wrestlemania, you ask? Oh, just the biggest thing to ever happen to wrestling - if you ask the WWE. In reality, it's the most expensive and extravagant show the WWE puts on every year. Think of it like a season finale of your favorite show. Everything culminates at Wrestlemania. _Everything._

The schedule was getting packed pretty tight for a show I never believed even had a creative team not too long ago. Usually while we worked with a certain number of superstars on a short term, week-by-week storyline, we were also starting to meet on others days with superstars for advanced, long term plots. Some days - _most_ days - we're even changing up scripts the day of the show if an Exec says so and the superstars have to bullshit almost everything they're saying on live television.

Have I mentioned that I hate having to refer to them as "superstars"?

That day, two other writers were working with me as continued going over scripts with two men much larger than we three writers. All five of us sat in a meeting room, not so much discussing the plots anymore. I felt a little bit bad for the wrestlers in the room. Every other sentence that came out of my peers' mouths just so happened to be "remember that one time...". Cody, a younger man with a sharp jawline and buzzed brown hair, kept looking at his phone every few seconds instead of answering Toby, a boy who was the size of a stick and looked at the wrestler with his wide gray eyes. Then there was Mike, who had slightly longer hair and pointed face, was explaining something to Josh, who was much rounder and kept adjusting his thick rimmed hipster ray bans, in obvious exasperation.

I stayed to myself seeing as I had already gone over the key points of the meeting and had no other use for being there. Besides, twirling my pencil in my hand was much more interesting at the moment.

I wanted desperately to leave but decided against it several times. Usually, since it was the first Saturday of the month, we would get our next long term assignment that would lead up to the next month. I was actually excited considering the pay-per-view I'd be working on would be the Royal Rumble which was the main lead up to Wrestlemania. Part of me was scared shitless at the prospect of having my ideas show up on the crowned jewel of the entire corporation. The other part of me was scared because maybe I was actually enjoying wrestling again.

"Audrey!"

I blinked and dropped my pencil as it fell to the floor with a soft clack. My eyes darted to where the voice had come from to register that it had been Cody. I quickly snatched up my pencil and pretended to look as unflustered as possible. "Yeah?"

All the guys were looking at me with amused grins which only made me want to sock every one of them in the arm. It wouldn't have been the first time. Most of the wrestlers found it adorable that I'd tried to hurt them.

"Anything you'd like to add?" Josh asked with a snicker.

"Nope," I said, glaring. I wanted to bring up how much time they wasted but, honestly, felt it wasn't worth it.

Besides, before I could think of some witty on the spot, a knock from the door reached our ears and the creaked softly open. There with an impossibly huge grin plastered on her face, stood Stephanie McMahon with a manila folder in hand. Her toothy smile was almost blinding and her chestnut hair managed to be perfectly coiffed, as usual while she scanned the room. "Hey guys! I assume everything's going well."

There was a round of mumbled responses, summing up into to one big "yes". Her grin slightly faded as her attention went to me. "Miss Bishop?"

I gulped down hard at the formal use of my name. "Yes, Ms. McMahon?"

"I'd like to speak with you in my office immediately," she said in an intimidating tone, her smile falling away completely. I nodded vehemently, hearing more snickers and stifled laughter from Josh and Toby. I stood up, straightening out my skirt before walking over to the two wrestlers in the room. I gave them each a firm handshake, muttering repeatedly about trying not to break my hand. They let out a few laughs before saying goodbye, as did I before following my boss out of the room.

It was funny now, in a cosmic sort of way, how I used to make fun of the very woman I was following when I was younger and now she held my future in her very well-manicured hands. I hated cosmic jokes.

She walked down the hall at a very quick pace as I tried my best to stay in toe. She didn't say one word to me in the halls as we passed people in other meetings and at computers. Everyone seemed utterly stressed and on edge no matter what they were doing, but that's generally how it went at the beginning of every month. We're our own chaotic little world behind the scenes.

Ms. McMahon pushed open the door to her office, motioning for me to come in as well. I sat down in one of the two seats that were set in front of her desk and folded my hands on my lap. She sat down in the giant leather seat behind her desk opening the folder as she began to speak. "So, Audrey, I've been getting some complaints from your fellow writers lately for... 'blatant disregard for colleagues during meetings' and ' _unprofessional_ behavior'."

In my mind, I was thinking of all the different ways I could murder Josh and Toby while my heart raced a bit faster. I bit my tongue before I could remark. The last thing I needed was to direct my badly timed snark at my boss. She set down my folder and gave me an unreadable stare before letting out a laugh. "Don't look so high-strung, you're not on trial here."

I unfolded my hands and sat back a little bit, exhaling in relief. Ms. McMahon flipped idly through the pages inside the folder, examining each for a few seconds. "You've been with the WWE for over a year now, right?"

"Yes, Ms. McMahon."

She cringed a bit before glancing at me for a moment. "Call me Stephanie. I'm not just your supervisor, I'm _part_ of the creative team. I'm your _coworker_. I'd like you to think of me on the same level as the rest of the staff, alright?

 _That'd be a terrible idea._ I nodded and waited for her to speak again.

"Audrey, like in every business," Stephanie began, standing up, "there are people who make it and people who don't. Not everyone here is going to make it. They think of the WWE like any other writing job on their resume." She walked around her desk and began pacing. "There are few, truly creative writers on this staff that have known this business long before they even considered this career." She stepped in front of me and crossed her arms. "I believe _you_ are one of those writers. Not only is your previous work during your internship _exceptional_ , but what you've written for us in the past quarter has been thoroughly entertaining and above-par for someone with such little experience in our business. You've impressed quite a few people."

 _I impressed people? Like, _executive_ type people?_ That was the goal, at least. I withheld the giant smile threatening to form on my face and the absolute joy in the pit of my stomach.

I'm guessing she could tell my excitement anyway from the amusement on her own face. "We have two more pay-per-view events to begin working on before the big one and I want to see what you can do for Monday Night Raw leading up to the Royal Rumble main event."

Unable to hold in my excitement for any longer, I let out a tiny squeak much to my own embarrassment. Stephanie eyed me and raised her eyebrows. I cleared my throat nervously, sitting up straighter in my seat. "Thank you, Ms. McMa-...I mean, er, Stephanie."

Without a hesitation she continued and resumed her pacing. "This coming week, you'll be working with two of our head writers for the next two months on the plot leading to Wrestlemania, and depending on how the audience reacts to the current storyline, you might just being working on this project through to the spectacle itself."

I held in the rest of my excitement and kept a somewhat calm demeanor as she continued talking about the formal meeting later that afternoon. She continued her pacing, her black Louis Vuittons clicking rhythmically on the tiled floor. It was like a MI6 type speech from beginning to end, all 'this mission, if you choose to accept it...' and dramatically serious eye contact.

If that was the case though, just call me Bond.

* * *

The hours between the morning meeting and the new afternoon meeting were excruciatingly long, so much so that lunch was even utterly overbearing. My laptop lost its entertainment value a half hour after I had finished eating. I silently wondered if I could take a nap on one of the smaller tables until the meeting, but decided against it simply for the fact that there was no way I was about to sleep. Not with this assignment. No freaking way. Instead, I quietly played stupid games for another hour.

In my defense, that was the longest hour of my life.

I was on my fourth game of solitaire before I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I glanced up to my right to see a moderately tall woman with flowing blonde hair smiling at me. It wasn't really a pleasant smile either. Despite having soft, porcelain features, it seemed more like her mouth curled into a snarl. She brushed a wavy, golden strand of hair out of her eye, scrutinizing me with her bright green stare before speaking. "Newbie, right?"

Panic. My ability to sound casual flew out the window with my chill. I paused for a moment and blinked before nodding, feeling the distinct familiarity of word vomit spilling out. "I generally go by Audrey, sometimes Aud if I'm feeling friendly." I couldn't help it; I was nervous and she looked a bit frightening. I could tell she was about to speak but I couldn't help myself. "Oh! And my personal favorite, 'get out of my seat'."

The woman gave me an impatient look. "Last one it is, then."

"Rae, let's try not to kill the new girl," a deeper, smooth voice from behind me called out. We both turned around to identify the voice, finding a slightly graying man wearing thick glasses rolling his dark eyes - which seemed much kinder.

The girl, Rae I presumed, let out a strange cross between a whimper and a growl at the request, which was followed by a sneer in her voice as she spoke. "Charlie, this is 'get out of my seat'."

Charlie smiled politely and extended his hand to me which I obligingly shook. "Nice to meet you, Audrey."

"You too," I said with a high-pitched, nervous laugh as I shook his hand.

He let go of my hand and nodded towards the very irritated woman next to me. "You've obviously met Rae already."

Another nervous laugh followed my own nod. I'm good at those.

"Now we only need the last two members of our group and we'll be ready," Charlie said confidently, adjusting his jacket before taking a seat at the table to one side of me while Rae roughly pulled a chair to the other side of the table and took a seat. It wasn't the most comfortable silence but it was a whole hell of a lot better than when we had been speaking to one another. We stayed at our corners in our own little worlds as Rae picked at her nails and Charlie seemed to be playing games on his iPhone. I, myself, was occupied with another rousing game of solitaire at the moment until we heard the doors swing open.

I turned around to find a rather lean, tanned man with his sandy brown hair disheveled walking our way. His mouth formed a straight line - a clear sign of his distaste for these meetings as his bright eyes scanned over the three of us, judging us. There was a look of disgust coming from Rae while Charlie had a clearly plastered on that fake grin spread across his face. I simply blinked and raised an eyebrow at the man as he took a seat in between my two fellow writers. Of course I was too intimidated by the main roster talent to introduce myself most times. _This is my job, damn it. Why am I always freaked out by these guys?_

As he begrudgingly took off his old black headphones, he sent me a glance, his look of boredom and dislike unchanging. I shrunk down in my seat as unnoticeably as possible.

 _What? I didn't even do anything yet!_

I shook off the glance as Jonathan Good inserted himself into our nonexistent conversation. Sorry, excuse my verbiage. I meant _Dean Ambrose_.

"Charlie, nice to see ya again I guess," he began pleasantly, turning from the older man to the younger woman, "and Rae...God, you look like hell."

"Bite me," Rae drawled, folding her arms and slouching in her chair.

Jon flashed a smirk her way as he leaned back lazily in his chair. "I'll pass. Bad past experiences in that category."

"Jon, this is one of our newer writers, Audrey Bishop," Charlie interrupted cheerfully, motioning to me with another false smile.

"Well, well," Jon replied, his eyes going back to me as they flashed in the light. "Speaking of potentially bad experiences."

This time, I was the one to raise an eyebrow as my lips forms a flat line.

"Don't start without me!"

Again all our heads shot to the door to find a very winded looking platinum blonde. Nick Nemeth - or Dolph Ziggler, as he's known on the roster - waved, his white-blond hair falling out of his ponytail and into his face. He jogged up to the last remaining seat between Rae and I. He smiled, a much more pleasant smile than I had seen at the meeting so far. "Nice! Looks like I know everyone here."

He was right; we'd worked together before very shortly during my internship. Nick had always been a nice guy, which was refreshing compared to the rest of the people who'd entered. It helped that he seemed to have a need to make everyone in the room he's in laugh at least once. It was like a mission of his. As if some dark shroud had been lifted, the atmosphere of the room lightened and even Rae seemed less gloomy. Unfortunately, I learned that she looked even more evil when she smiled. It was actually a bit frightening - like she had fangs or something.

"So, the Rumble's coming and here's what we got to work with: at _TLC_ , Jon is going to take the win over Ron and Ryan. The following episode of Raw, we throw Nick in the mix via a six man tag," Charlie began, pulling out a notebook full of loose-leaf paper. "This is where we come in."

Rae reached down to her bag are pulled out a spiral notebook, flipping through the pages with a sigh. "According to recent audience demographics..."

It's a little bit sad, but after hearing the word 'demographics', I stopped listening. We all knew how the crowd felt about the two wrestlers in the room. I glanced back and forth between the two men, to find they were just about as interested as I was. Nick watched his fingers as they tapped to an unrecognizable rhythm, pausing ever so often and starting over a few times. On the other side of the table, Jon was leaning his chair back and forth and staring at the ceiling. I glanced at the ceiling myself for a moment in confusion. _Nope, nothing interesting up there. Weirdo._

"Audrey?" Charlie said as my eyes darted from the ceiling to him.

"Uh huh?" I asked, my tone dripping with disinterest.

The older man eyed me curiously. "Is there something interesting on the ceiling that's keeping you from our conversation?"

"That's...kinda what I was wondering," I started sheepishly. Both he and Rae glared at me as I pointed to Jon instantly. "I mean, um...He started it."

To my right, I heard a snorted laugh which I found came from Nick, who had his fist over his mouth trying very hard to suppress another. Across the table, I noticed Jon had thrown me a strange look and seemed like he was about to let out a laugh himself. Unfortunately, my two fellow writers didn't seem quite as amused as they continued to glare daggers my way. I straightened in my seat and cleared my throat before mumbling some sort of apology.

Without missing a beat, Charlie began speaking again as all of us tried to (or at least pretend to) listen. It was a shame considering his voice came out of his mouth slower than syrup. Even Rae looked bored after a half hour. Luckily the meeting ended a few minutes later or else we would have all killed him. "Rae, Audrey, and I will throw some ideas together for next week's meeting which you'll both have a chance to compound upon. Until then, you're on the road. Have a great week."

Charlie closed his notebook as did Rae, before they both stood up and began to walk out. I growled as Rae muttered to her colleague, "Hmph, another brilliant newbie."

As the door shut, I stood with my laptop case and heaved a sigh. I pushed in my chair and began to walk out of the room, dragging my feet for added effect.

"Don't take what Rae says too seriously."

I glanced over to see Nick getting up from his chair at the table. "She's just not good with new people. Don't let her intimidate you."

I didn't reply at first, but instead nodded and smiled.

Awkward silence enveloped the three remaining people in the room as I shuffled my feet slightly. I cleared my throat for the second time that day. "Well, I suppose I'll see you in Philly. Have a good week," I said before pausing and adding, "and thanks for the advice."

The blonde grinned and shrugged, walking to the door. "No problem. You have a good week, too."

With that, he was gone, leaving me to want to get out of the room as quickly as possible before I did something else stupid.

"So," the remaining wrestler in the room began, still sitting in his seat and not even looking in my direction, "you always this awkward?"

I stopped in my tracks and spun around, almost forgetting that I wasn't the only person in the room. I looked down at Jon, a frown forming on my lips. "What? No."

That might have sounded a bit _too_ defensive. I winced at the edge in my voice.

"Ha! A bad liar too? My lucky day." He finally took a moment to glance up at me with a cheeky grin. "Here's hoping you write better than you talk, huh?"

My frown deepened as my look turned into a glare, and without even touching the subject of why he wasn't leaving like the rest of us were, I turned and walked out of the room. As I traveled down the hall, I exhaled loudly an scratched my head. That was... _interesting_.

That was the last thought that went through my head before walking out into the bitter cold of Stamford.


End file.
